


Blackbird

by orphan_account



Series: Scared AU [2]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Character Death, Death, Gen, I don't know what this is TBH, I mean, Implied Relationships, M/M, Please Don't Kill Me, they're finally all together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Paul remembers his past(Sequel of Scared)
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: Scared AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106312
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Blackbird

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still grateful for everyone reading Scared, so I decided to write a short sequel.  
> If you want to have more information, I recommend reading Scared before this one.  
> Enjoy and leave a kudo and a comment to let me know if you liked it

A shiver traveled through Paul's spine.

It was getting late and the cold early January air wasn't nice over his old body.

He got back onto his feet with some difficulties, the snow crunching under his boots as he started his walk back home.

He shivered some more, entering his cozy house. That house that once was filled with love and affection, was now empty.

The warmness made by the big fireplace was warming up the old house in a pretty perfect way, but it wasn't the kind of warmness Paul craved.

He heavily sat down onto the massive, comfy armchair in front of the fireplace, a glass full of coke and scotch in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

He had quitted smoking since he was around 60, only giving in to the old habits when he really felt like doing it.

Today, well, it was a day he felt like simply doing whatever he felt to do.

His eyes locked onto a big framed picture on the mantelpiece shelf.

A knot formed into his throat as his eyes lingered on the smiling faces portrayed in it, forever freezing that happy Christmas.

The last Christmas they all spent together.

Mimi was standing with her head held high, a smile on the wise face of a hold woman. Her greying mane was as curly and perfect as Paul remembered seeing the first time, though it was completely black at the time, he had met her.

The person next to her was his father, Jim, hugging Mimi sideways with his gentleman smile and kind eyes, those arched brows Paul had inherited from him and his balding head. He was smiling with a pipe in his mouth.

Then there was Paul, his hair still dark even if striked with silver, his eyes warm, slightly wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and smiling mouth giving away his real age.

And then, almost nestled in Paul's strong trustworthy arms, was the love of his life.

At seeing the face of his late husband, Paul's eyes started stinging with unshed tears.

Even after all that time, he was still mourning him.

Yeah, the pain had lessened through the years; he wasn't thinking about John all the time like before. But he was still in the back of his mind, especially when he was alone and not tired enough to not think.

"Oh, John" his whisper got lost into the overbearing silence of the room.

Paul wouldn't call himself lonely; he still had many friends.

But he missed his husband dearly.

In the past, he had tried to date again many times. All his partners were lovely, but Paul couldn't feel that spark, that immediate feeling he had when he met John all those years ago.

All his marriages hadn't lasted more than 4 or 5 years, and even in those years, Paul had never really considered his spouses like actual spouses. 

It was mostly because he didn't want to be seen as the sad man who couldn't get over the death of his loved husband.

Luckily, all the divorces had been friendly departures.

"You were right, Meems" he chuckled, almost like Mimi was still there too.

In some ways, she, just like his father, his mother and John, was still there, keeping him company with memories on those nights he couldn't shake the nostalgia off of him.

He remembered that evening, when Mimi had told him those truthful words.

They were talking, questioning the uncertain future that was threatening Paul and John's happy marriage and futures.

At some point, Paul had asked Mimi why she had never remarried, even after all those years and after becoming a widow at such a young age.

Mimi had only clicked her tongue, staring thoughtfully at the starry sky.

"Well, some people are simply meant to fall in love once, with their soulmate. It's sad, but true" she had finally decided to answer with a small shrug.

Paul hadn't really believed her, how could he? His husband was still there after all.

But now, now he had perfectly understood what she had meant.

Their last years hadn't been sad or even unhappy.

It was like they were unconsciously already knowing what was going to happen.

Neither of them had understood the seriousness of John's worsening condition until it was getting too late.

No matter how many therapies and medicines John was doing and taking; slowly, his brain was destroying itself, like their young neurologist had had predicted.

Paul's watery eyes posed down onto his wedding ring, the ring he had refused to take off even after John's death. 

He wanted to be buried with his ring. John too had been buried with his.

It was probably the last coherent decision he had made before dying.

His mind wandered back at almost 20 years before.

John had surprised doctors for having lived for so long.

He was still so young, according to Paul and everyone else who had known John. 40 was a way too young age to die.

Doctors weren't giving him more than 2 years of life, when he had firstly been diagnosed; he was 23 and full of fear.

Yet, he had proved everyone wrong, surviving until the age of 40 and passing away at his own conditions.

At home with Paul, like they had both wanted.

Paul still remembered not wanting John to die completely alone in an anonymous hospital room, surrounded by nurses and beeping machines.

He had told Paul he didn't want to be hooked up on any machines, because that wasn't life and Paul couldn't help but agree.

It would be cruel to keep someone like John, so full of life and wonder, hooked up onto a ventilator; basically being brain dead, but his heart still beating, even if not by itself.

On the 8th of December, they both felt like it was the dreaded day.

John had been feeling even dizzier than the previous days. Honestly, he had been under the weather for most of December, the cold weather not generous over his frail body.

He was cuddled up onto his favourite armchair, petting one of the cats that had jumped over his lap.

He was constantly shivering, no matter how many blankets Paul was covering him with.

"Paulie…Paulie, I'm sorry…"

Paul looked up into John's face; it was tear stained and flushed, his breath laboured and it was clear he wasn't feeling well.

The older man softly picked him up from the chair, holding him flush against his body.

John whimpered, burying his face into the crook of his neck, the wet breathing tickling the other man's skin.

Suddenly, Love Me Tender started playing on their small turntable and Paul smiled.

"Will you do the honour of dancing this song with me?" he asked, pulling away so he could look at his husband's face.

John nodded and straightened himself as best as he could, letting Paul lead him into their dance.

They swayed around the living room, John posing his head down onto the other's shoulder, eyes closing as he relaxed more and more.

"Johnny, I love you so much. You made me the happiest person on earth" whispered Paul, delicately raising John's head up and leaning down to kiss him.

John hummed happily, "I love you too, Paulie. I'm so grateful for your love"

They intertwined their hands, smiling softly, foreheads pressed together.

By the time the record was over, John was too tired to stand on his feet anymore.

Paul carried him to the bedroom, carefully holding him close to his body, softly talking about all the memories they've made throughout the years.

It was clear John was barely there, breath getting more shallow as he moaned in pain.

"Sweetie…?" Paul was very uncertain as he tucked John in bed, crawling without hesitation next to him.

He wanted to hold him. He wanted to lull him to sleep. Even if that sleep was probably going to be forever.

"I'm scared" whimpered John, pressing himself further into the sturdy chest in front of him.

"Love, it hurts, it hurts a lot...I want to sleep, Paulie" he whispered in distress.

"Johnny, oh love. I love you so much. I'm gonna miss you so much" Paul's breath was hitching, tears dampening his cheeks and disappearing into John's mane of hair.

Gently, the younger man cupped his cheeks, wiping his tears with his thumbs, "I love you too, Paul. Thank you for the best years of my life…" John's head lolled to the side, his breath coming out in sharp, shallow breaths.

Paul leaned down, kissing his lips, feeling his breath coming out for one last time, feeling life leaving forever the body of his loved one.

Paul staggered out of breath, his uncoordinated body knocking a bedside lamp off, sending it in million pieces on the floor.

He turned around. John's expression was peaceful and finally pain free for a long time.

He reached over, tucking the covers around his body and leaning down again, kissing his forehead. He was still warm and that brought tears to his eyes.

With his eyes closed, contoured by his long lashes, his auburn hair forming a halo around his head onto the stark white pillow and the soft pale skin, he almost looked like the sleeping beauty.

He needed to get a grip of things.

Paul staggered downstairs, grabbing the phone.

Everything that happened afterwards seemed like a fever dream. At some point, he was breaking down into Mimi's arms, the woman also crying.

He didn't even notice he had called her.

Paul had lost many loved one in his life.  
First his mother at only age 14; then his father, only five years before John's death.

Then Elvis the cat and Thisbe had both died in the span of a week from each other.

John had died in December, Martha barely two months later; Paul had found her in the barn, her old saggy doggy body resting in the soft hay, warmed by the weak winter sun rays. 

He had held her and cried loudly.

In 1991, just shy of two days before John's 11th death anniversary, he had received the unpleasant news of Mimi's death.

Thinking of that kind, hardworking and full of love woman, brought tears to his eyes even now.

Especially the memories of the period of time they've been more close to each other, when John was in serious condition at the hospital and throughout all the recovery.

Even more sad was the fact Paul had seen her only the day before, sharing a cup of tea and some scones while reminiscing about the past.

Parting ways, Paul had leaned down to kiss the woman's cheek, telling her he loved her. The smile from Mimi he got was something so sweet he wanted to cry at the thought.

According to the nurse taking care of her, Mimi's last words were 'Hello John'.

He hoped they were reunited together somewhere.

George, his best friend since childhood, had passed away in 2001 after battling cancer.

At least, Ringo was still there.

"Yet, you're gonna be all alone" bitterly thought Paul. He went to bed, curling on himself and for the first time, he reached over to hug the other pillow of the bed.

When McCartney opened his eyes again, he smiled peacefully.

Something soft was tickling his nose.

He looked down, eyes widening slightly at the auburn locks getting into his mouth.

"Oh, Paul" his eyes got teary as John smiled up at him, squinting slightly, tears dampening his cheeks.

As they leaned down into a much needed, much missed kiss, they heard happy noises from around, softly parting ways with a smile.

Everyone of their past had gathered around them.

They were all standing in what looked like a mixture of Paul's childhood home and John's childhood home.

Cynthia and Stuart, John's best friends, George, his father, Mimi and a man he recognised from pictures as John's uncle George and….

His mother, looking young and healthy again.

He ran to her, hugging her, crying and telling her he was happy to see her again.

Mary told him how proud she had been of him.

As Paul said hi to everyone, he took a glance in a mirror and saw he wasn't the wrinkly, grey haired 78-year-old man he was when he was still alive.

He was yet again his 25-year-old version, with the shiny dark hair and perfect skin.

Everyone was like he remembered them, young and healthy.

Mimi was back at being young and full of life, skin fair and head full of dark curls; his father was back at being slightly balding and with that kind crooked smile; George as he looked in their early 20s, his mother was as young as beautiful as she was when he was a child.

According to John, Stuart and his uncle George both looked like last time he had seen them and Cynthia looked like the first time the two of them had become friends in art school.

John himself looked like the first time Paul had met him: young, gorgeous and full of life, but more important, pain free.

"And now, love" whispered John with eyes full of love, grabbing his husband's hand and bringing it up to his lips, "We finally have our happily ever after"

Tearing up, the two leaned down to press their lips into a kiss full of promising and love in their new endless future.


End file.
